The Boy Who Never Grew Up with Her
by RenakhiteInk
Summary: Even Peter Pan needed to be taught how to believe.


**Chapter Zero of Peter Pan**  
_The Boy Who Never Grew Up With Her_

I

"Come on, Peter," his friend called out to him, "Hurry before they've all left!" His friend flashed him a smile before she disappeared at the top of the hill.

Peter didn't know where they were going, but he was hoping it will be somewhere good. He already has the burden of explaining the mud on his new shoes to his mother. Then again, it wouldn't really matter to him the destination of their little adventure. Any excuse to get out of his house and its household is a good enough excuse.

He could hear the sounds of laughter and surprised shouts and gasps of people nearby. Coming closer, he could identify the music starting to flow into his ears. It was circus music! "I'm almost there," he replied. He heard a faint laughter that sounded a little like bells follow.

Upon reaching the top of her cliff, Peter saw that she was nowhere to be found. "Clara?" He sighed in exasperation. "This is the seventh time I lost her," he said to himself. Now, their adventure has formed one of its own. Again. Peter weaved in and out and past booths of all kinds and sizes in hopes of finding Clara.

It came to a point that Peter was ready to go home. After half an hour of almost fruitless searching, Peter eventually became tired. When he was about to give up and turn towards the direction of home, his shoulders were grabbed from behind him. He was abruptly spun around by the very girl he was looking for.

"You know," she started, her smile glowing faintly as the moon, "you're pretty slow, looking everywhere but _behind_ you for me." Clara took his hand and started to lead him to the biggest tent in the venue. "Let's go," she said, tugging on his wrist, "or we'll be late for the show."

"Will it be good?"

Clara smiled. There never seems to be an end to all of her mirth. "Just have a little faith and trust, Peter." But she hooked her pinky with his, and that was when Peter knew.

* * *

II

"Imagine if we could go on adventures our whole lives," said Peter one day, when they were out at the same hill.

The grass was as verdant as ever, and the sun shone bright over their heads. Without the great oak shading the two, they would have been forced to suffer the blinding heat.

Clara shook her head, smiling. "Oh, Peter," she sighed. "Our whole lives are an adventure in itself. Now, if you don't mind, I will go look for fairies down the meadow." With that, Clara stood up in one fluid movement and ran as fast as she can downhill.

* * *

III

Clara weaved through corridors and corridors of the school until she came about Peter. She found him sitting all alone at the bench staring out at the moss-filled fountain. She approached him carefully. Deep inside, Clara had a hunch something was the matter. "Peter?" she called out from a distance.

No response.

"Peter, come on," she tried again, nearer this time, "It's me." Clara placed a hand on his shoulder.

He shook it off. That simple action was enough for Clara to withdraw herself as much as possible to the boy in front of her. "You know, you can stop being such a protector, Clara! I don't need anyone's help; I'm a _boy_," said Peter. His voice was laced with so toxic disdain that even Clara felt it bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

Clara clenched and unclenched her fists. Breathe. "It's what friends do, Peter," she said, softly, "They protect each other." She turned herself around and began walking away. Halfway between the exit and Peter, she looked over her shoulder once. "And I don't know what our schoolmates are telling you, but why should you believe in their words over those you hold close?"

* * *

IV

"I'm sorry, Peter," Clara's mother told him when he came to visit, "I'm afraid you can't see Clara. Maybe tomorrow."

Peter pushed past her and ran all the way up to Clara's bedroom. He skidded to a stop at her doorway.

There she was by the windowsill, her skin as pale and brittle and translucent as paper. Clara turned to face him. Peter noticed her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes.

"How are you?"

Despite all the sadness that hung in the air, Clara still laughed the same. "I'm as fine as I'll ever be; thank you for asking."

* * *

V

"Even if we grow old, we'll still be friends, right?" asked Peter one day. They were out by the old oak at the hill again, tired after a day of chasing after butterflies and rabbits.

Clara nodded, relishing the summer breeze flowing by. The two of them would get into big trouble, for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Their clothes are dusty and have splatters of mud here and there. The polished black shoes lost their pristine after being so carelessly used in running.

"No matter what?"

"No matter what." Clara hooked her pinky with his. "I promise."

"Here's to faith and trust!"

* * *

VI

"Hey, Peter," said Clara. "If you make a promise to someone, and they make a promise to you but broke it, does that mean you can also break your promise to them?"

"I guess it depends on the person."

"But would you?"

"I wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because they meant a whole lot to me, even if I don't mean a whole lot to them anymore."

* * *

VII

Clara's illness got worse with each passing day. It got to a point where she couldn't stand without help, where her blood tainted the handkerchief whenever she used it to cover her cough. Clara was bedridden, but Peter visits her whenever possible.

One afternoon, when the two were left alone, Peter asked, "Clara, promise me that you'll get better so we can grow up together. Neither of us will be alone." Then he stuck out his pinky to the open air.

She smiled with all the brightness she had left and hooked her pinky with his. "I promise," Clara said before she let her hand fall down the duvet. Clara watched the sunlight streaming into the window and noticed little things flying in the air. She asked Peter what they were.

"My mother calls them sun fairies," he answered, looking up at them, too. When he looked back to her, there was a look of utmost astonishment. "What's the matter?"

Her gaze shifted to him. "It just that I've never seen so many fairies in my life!" her voice, he noticed, was even filled with the wonder to match with her expression.

* * *

VIII

The rain fell down the earth that day. Everyone held umbrellas over their heads, but Peter chose to stand out in the open. The rain was only a light drizzle, as if the sky was afraid if it fell any harder, it would break Peter for all that he stood for.

He watched as she was lowered to the ground, and fought back against the tears welling up in his eyes. He had promised to be strong for the both of them. _He_ had promised.

"_Even if we grow old, we'll still be friends, right?"_

"_No matter what?"_

"…_promise me that you'll get better so we can grow up together. Neither of us will be alone."_

"_Because they meant a whole lot to me, even if I don't mean a whole lot to them anymore."_

"_I promise."_

Peter clenched his fists when they began putting the dug up soil back into the ground. Everyone else is beginning to disperse, but Peter remained. His mind recalled the last words Clara ever said to him.

"_Look at the North star. I'll always be there, guiding you, when I'm not around here anymore."_

That night, when Peter was walking home from her house (Clara's mother had given him some treasures and tokens left behind in their adventures for him to take care of), he looked up to the night sky and found the strangest thing.

There was another star to the right.

And for reasons quite unknown and confounding to Peter, it made him smile. Just one little dot among other little dots shone bright enough to drive the coldness off of him. The wind breezed by him, carrying fallen leaves in its arms. Peter thought he could hear something in the air. It sounded a little like chimes and bells. It sounded like _her_.

"_Think of happy thoughts, Peter. That's how you will find me."_

* * *

Disclaimer: I only own Clara and the brief life she shared with Peter before he came widely known in children's stories as _Peter Pan_.

And just to clarify things, _Chapter Zero_ is an assignment in our writing club. One is supposed to write their own prologue of a story they know. I came up with this idea, because there had to be someone before Peter to show him the ropes of believing. There enters Clara. I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
